2. Chapter 2
Charlie
“ O kay, team,” she said, standing at the front of the rug where twenty-one second graders sat in various stages of wriggling. “Today we’re learning about something very important.”
“Volcanoes?” Louis asked hopefully.
“I think it’s dinosaurs,” another little voice offered.
“Is it math?” groaned Janie, looking offended by the idea. Charlie made a mental note. By June, she hoped Janie would see the fun side of math.
“No,” Charlie said, sweeping a dark blond curl behind her ear and fighting a smile. “We’re going to learn about the thirty-second rule.”
“My mom always talks about that one. It’s when you drop a chicken nugget, but you can still eat—”
“That’s the five-second rule!” Olivier said.
“My dad says it’s ten seconds!”
She cut them off gently but firmly. “This is a different thirty-second rule, taught by a very smart lady. It has zero to do with germs and everything to do with your busy, awesome brains.”
The kids perked up.
“Is she a teacher, like you?”
Charlie grinned. “Yes, she is.”
She crossed to her desk and picked up a tiny kitchen timer shaped like a duck wearing sunglasses and a rucksack. The class adored that duck. At the start of the year, they’d named him Mr. Quackston.
“Let’s say Mr. Quackston just ate corn on the cob for lunch and now he’s got some stuck in his beak.” She squinted at the duck figurine. “Happens to the best of us.”
A ripple of giggles.
“Is it helpful or unhelpful to tell him?”
“Helpful!”
“Why?”
“Because he looks silly!”
“Because he can fix it!”
“Exactly.” Charlie nodded. “If something looks silly and can be fixed quickly—like corn in your teeth, an untied shoelace, or toilet paper stuck to your shoe…”
Several children pulled horrified faces. The rest laughed.
“…then that person, or duck, will probably be very thankful you spoke up.”
She set Mr. Quackston down in the middle of the circle.
“But what about things that can’t be fixed in thirty seconds?” she asked. “Like the shape of someone’s body. The color of their skin. Their hair color. Their voice. The way they look.”
The room was suddenly quiet.
“See how those things might be different from the corn problem?”
“Yes!” The kids all seemed to be in agreement.
“Those are per-so-nal ,” Nicollete said, stretching out the syllables.
“Those things don’t need fixing,” Théo said quietly, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Something tightened inside her. It was the first time the boy had spoken today, which was unusual for him. He was one of her more insightful—and usually more vocal—students.
“Exactly. So, back to the rule. If it can’t be fixed in thirty seconds… then we don’t say anything.” Charlie leaned closer, conspiratorial. “Okay, practice time. Give me examples of things we can tell someone.”
“Something in your teeth!”
“You’re wearing two different shoes!”
“Your T-shirt’s inside out!”
“Excellent!” She clapped her hands once. “How about things we do not comment on?”
“How tall someone is,” muttered Logan, the tallest boy in the class.
“How small they are,” countered Ellie, fierce despite her size.
“Their face.”
Charlie nodded. “Those are all part of who someone is, and who someone is… is never wrong.”
A small, earnest voice piped up. “Ms. Charlie?”
“Yes?”
“What about good things?”
“Oh, absolutely. Compliments are encouraged, and maybe even required when someone wears a truly excellent outfit.”
Compliments started flying around the circle.
She laughed. “Alright—who’s ready for math?”
A dramatic chorus of n o shook the room.
“Fine,” she conceded. “We’ll leave math for Thursday. Tomorrow, we have a field trip!”
The rug erupted into motion. Charlie watched them, smiling, even as something tight settled in her chest. She believed in feeding their sense of adventure. She wanted them to grow up unafraid—willing to take risks, and open to new things.
Not like her.
A quiet voice inside her pushed back.
There’s nothing wrong with staying home with a puzzle.
Or with being careful.
Careful kept her safe. And things hadn’t exactly worked out that great the last time she took a big risk. But that was beside the point. This wasn’t about her. This was about the children—this was important to their future.
“The bus will bring us to the Drop Zone of Les Bois,” she continued. “We’re going to spend the day with the gendarmes , learning how they keep people safe on the mountain. They might even let us try the climbing wall they train on.”
Little eyes went wide as saucers.
“Wow.”
Wow indeed . Climbing was high—pun intended—on the list of things Charlie didn’t want to do.
“My dad says those men are heroes,” Ellie said.
Charlie’s throat tightened as her memories took over. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. For one treacherous second, she considered calling in sick. Letting somebody else fill in for her tomorrow. But that was cowardice speaking. That wasn’t who she was, or who she wanted to be for the children.
She took a deep breath before answering.
“Your dad is right. And tomorrow, we get to see them in action. So remember—sleep well, eat a nutritious breakfast … and wear your comfiest shoes.” She smiled at them. “Tomorrow is going to be epic!”